


transcendence

by gurj14



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Commander Lexa (The 100), F/F, lexa gets shot in the beginning but she lives, lexa has so many thoughts and clarke has so many feels, reunited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29818461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gurj14/pseuds/gurj14
Summary: Lexa was just an immigration lawyer buying some candy until she wasn't.post 3x07 fic with a modern twist, a reunion in another life.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 12
Kudos: 112
Collections: Clexaweek2021





	transcendence

**Author's Note:**

> heads up Lexa does get shot in the beginning, but she survives.

Lexa tossed her candy purchase in front of the convenience store cashier.

In silent exchange, he scanned her sour soothers and accepted the five-dollar bill she handed him. It was late at night, and she had made a stop at the convenience store down the street from her office. 

She was burning the midnight oil, and sugar helped. 

Everything happened so quickly after she politely thanked the cashier -- the father and son who had just paid for their own confectionary before her powerless to move as two men menacingly entered. 

One with a gun trained on the boy, who couldn’t have been older than seven and trembling, the other dropping a bag in front of the cashier. 

“Empty the register or we kill the kid.” 

//

“So Clarke, your song ‘May We Meet Again’ has won Best Original Song from the Oscars, what was your inspiration?”

“Well it’s a love song,” Clarke explained, knowing the question that was to come next. 

“But wow, the  _ way  _ you sing it and the words -- and you’re still so young, too, people are wondering who your muse was when you wrote it and how you can tap into such a depth of emotion?”

Clarke thought of Lexa: swords slicing through bodies, green eyes watching her with love in the furs of a warm bed, and a kiss she could still feel the tingles of in another life. 

“All artists write and perform from their emotions… I have lost a lot and I think about what I’ve lost.”

“So no lucky guy?”

Clarke had to laugh at that. “No… no guy.” 

After the formalities of the interview, Clarke listened to her assistant Michael dictate the rest of the day, murmuring about what to do as a couple of women untangled her hair and removed the makeup from the day’s marathon of interviews. 

“Heard she was a lawyer, with immigration,” the woman unpinning her hair was telling the other. “They showed convenience store footage on the news.”

“God, hope they catch those guys,” the other woman murmured, gently pressing an eye and lip makeup remover to Clarke’s eyelids. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Clarke asked. Michael had left to go organize her ride home. 

“Downtown, in the city hall area.” the woman tossed her cotton in the bin and said to Clarke, “A pretty safe area. There was a shooting at a convenience store. This young woman stepped in front of a little boy, took a bullet for him.” 

“Oh my.” Clarke’s heart always ached whenever anything related to gun violence was mentioned. 

It had a lot to do with memories of a lifetime in constant war and fear, but mostly to do with losing her beloved to a stray bullet. 

_ Don’t be afraid. _

She felt nauseous. 

“Is the woman okay?”

“They said she’s in the hospital,” was the answer Clarke got. “Alive. The men were wearing masks and haven’t been caught yet.” 

//

//

_ I don’t want the next commander. _

_ I want you. _

Lexa blinked her eyes, confusion from the sound of beeping and whispering around her. 

With a gasp, she startled awake, clutching the obstruction on her face in a panic. 

/

“Where am I?” Lexa asked the doctors, trying to understand where she was. Her last memory was of Clarke’s tearful kiss goodbye, her soothing voice, and then… just light and comfort. 

“What’s your name?” A man with greying hair looked at her over his ‘chart’ as the assistant helped him. 

Lexa revealed nothing, knowing better. 

“She may have memory loss,” he commented to his assistants. “I’m Dr. Bryer, Alexandria.” 

Lexa studied the room more carefully now. How did this man know her full name -- no one but her grandmother had spoken it to her, and the last time she had been called ‘Alexandria’ by her was when Lexa was taken away as a Nightblood to train. 

“Your name is Alexandria Woods,” he told her with furrowed brows, observing her reaction. “You’re twenty-four years old.”

“Lexa!” 

Lexa startled at the voice, recognizing a face she had not seen in a decade at least, since becoming Commander. 

“Komfoni?” She whispered before she was engulfed in a close hug. 

Her grandmother didn’t hear her, kissing her cheek and crying.

Lexa was stunned. Where the hell was she? Was she dead? Her grandmother had died years ago…

/

She was born into a different world, perhaps a transcendence of her spirit. 

Her grandmother was showing her ‘photo albums’ and trying to help her remember. Lexa feigned ignorance, knowing that speaking up and admitting she had no memory of this life and only of her time in another life, another world, raised to kill and be killed would not be received well. 

“This is your favourite.” Her grandmother would not let her move from the comfortable ‘couch,’ doting over her for recovery. 

Lexa had learned many things by quietly listening: she was shot, saving some little boy while buying ‘candy.’ And apparently her grandmother was curious Lexa didn’t go to a ‘vending machine’ because she almost died but was proud of her for saving a life. That and she was known here as an ‘immigration lawyer’ and not ‘Commander of the Blood.’ 

Trigedasleng was not a language anyone seemed to know, only gonasleng with many words she found difficult to keep a track of. 

She had been recovering in a hospital for the initial weeks, and Lexa understood being shot must have triggered her memories somehow. She went along with memory loss, knowing how curious head injuries to soldiers were in her own armies. 

The technology in this world was not that of a dying human race and warring clans for survival -- instead, there were ‘cars’ and a lack of horses, some kind of electronic ‘heating’ instead of fire, and clothes of an interesting range of fashion. 

She was currently wearing ‘sweatpants’ and a ‘hoodie’ from her own collection, and Lexa had to admit. This comfort was divine. 

Was this paradise? She was being served food by her grandmother, shown a life in which she had lived and grown up by her grandmother’s side without the burdens of…

“What is it?” Lexa asked her quietly, feeling shy as her hair was neatly tucked behind her cheek. Such open affection was not the Trikru way -- but it sure felt nice. Her grandmother used to sing her to sleep, and Lexa’s heart rushed with the love she long suppressed. 

“This is mac and cheese, my style,” her grandmother said. “Eat slowly. Then we can watch a movie, but you need to rest. Understood?”

Lexa had not been commanded since she was thirteen and called to lead her people. 

With great relief, she said, “Understood.” 

She timidly spooned the ‘mac and cheese’ into her mouth and not even Poli’s most illustrious fresh roast or a Boat clan’s well-done fish had ever delighted her tastebuds this way. 

“This is delicious Komf-- grandmother.” She was hungrier than she thought, digging into another bite. 

//

“--in love may you find the next,” Clarke sang, closing her eyes and thinking of green eyes and Lexa’s embrace. She held the end of her note for the dramatic moment in her song, not singing for the people who cheered and screamed or cried and worshipped. 

She sang hoping the radios would carry her song to Lexa, wherever she was. 

“May we meet again,” Clarke finished her lyric, wiping the stray tear from her eye that headlines would assume was emotion from winning an Oscar, but was really just her heart, breaking one more time. 

She bowed and left the stage, greeted by an enthusiastic entourage. 

Michael was crying, even her security detail clapped for her. 

“That was incredible, Clarke.” Michael hugged her and Clarke hugged him back, needing the hug of a friend more than feeling the joy of the moment. 

Later she would skip the after-party and reject the advances of good-looking celebrities hoping to latch on her star or simply be enamoured with it. She would go home, and she would dream of a life where she lived for other people instead of people living for her. 

//

“We totally understand the memory loss.” A woman Lexa had never met in her life was in the room, being served tea and biscuits by her grandmother. “Hell, the whole office is so proud of you, Woods. We got a job waiting for you whenever you get back.” 

Lexa had no memories of her work as an ‘immigration lawyer’ which meant she served her government to help people from other countries (cultures) assimilate legally into society. She could appreciate the concept. Apparently, she had undergone rigorous tutelage with a ‘university scholarship’ to achieve this title. 

It would seem in this society there was a monetary system of exchange instead of ‘community contribution’ and ‘money’ was to be made. Lexa understood her grandmother was ‘financially dependent’ on her ability to work, and even if she had no memories of her work she was feeling useless at the moment. 

“I need to find work,” she said after her ‘boss’ left and wished her a speedy recovery. 

“Why on earth? Lexa, you almost died!” Her grandmother was stern. 

“If I don’t work, how can I take care of you?”

Her grandmother looked unimpressed. “You’ve done more than enough. Honestly, your memories are gone but you’re still the same girl.” 

Lexa winced, standing up. “I don’t understand much but I know you are my world.” 

“ _ This _ is why you still have no girlfriend,” her grandmother scolded her again. 

“Girlfriend?” Lexa was confused at the word. 

“And you need not worry about money, okay? We are fine. We are smart.” 

/

When she was more comfortable in her new yet entirely confusing life, Lexa accompanied her grandmother to the ‘grocery’ store. It was an impressive, grand trading post of various foods and people -- families -- traveled there together and participated in ‘shopping’ for their households. 

Lexa had never seen anything so peaceful in her life, even when a grumpy elder man complained about the price of tomatoes being higher, Lexa was blown away with the abundance of food to go around. The state of the apples. 

“What is this?”

“Those are Wagon Wheels.” 

“They don’t look like the wheels of a wagon, there are no spokes.” 

Much of her awe and experience was pushing the ‘shopping cart’ and listening to her Grandmother answer all of her questions. 

“What is that?”

“That’s a chocolate bar. Honestly, Lexa, we need to get your doctor to check you out again soon, something is off. You remember me but--”

Whatever her grandmother was going to say next, Lexa did not hear. Because there was a song her ears tuned into and she froze. 

“I know that song,” she said, remembering the words as Clarke had told her. 

“Beautiful song,” her grandmother agreed. “Usually music these days is hardly music but oh, what a wonderful film that was.” 

Lexa’s eyes found a face of her memories next, staring right back at her from a photo. 

“ _ Clarke _ Griffin?” She picked it up, heart racing with recognition. 

“She won an Oscar for that song,” the woman scanning their purchases said. 

“What song?” Lexa asked, unable to look up from the face of her love. 

“From the Gladiator film, ‘May We Meet Again,’ on the radio just now,” the woman told her. “You want to buy that?”

Lexa didn’t understand, but she gave a nod and quietly followed her grandmother back to the car. 

//

Clarke sketched Lexa’s face from memory, fingers ghosting along with the green detail of her eyes. She could never get the colour quite right, only on the night when she was lucky enough to dream of her could she see them. 

These days she dreams of Lexa’s hands worshipping her body, vivid and consuming. 

“Clarke!” Michael and her security guards entered the room. He looked unimpressed with her still lying in bed. “You got a concert tonight, Clarke. It’s past noon!”

She didn’t want to wake up from slumber. In dreams she had Lexa, and when she woke up she was… alone. 

//

“Where is this address?” Lexa asked her grandmother, the magazine from the grocery store open in front of her as Lexa analyzed a map of the city. 

“That concert is sold out, honey, I tried to call and ask for you…”

“I need to go,” Lexa said. Clarke was suggested to be singing and the time and date were today, for later his evening. “I need to go there. I have to.” 

“Lexa…”

“Please,” Lexa begged her grandmother. “Help me.”

“I suppose I’ll drop you nearby and you can see if anyone is trying to sell their tickets by the door… but you call me if you can’t get in and I will pick you right up, okay?”

“Thank you.” 

/

Lexa could hear voices louder than a ‘fight until the death’ audience in Polis’s city center. She examined the entry points of the ‘concert,’ and knew without whatever pass people showed to the armed guards she would not be able to get through. She had no way of communicating with Clarke and she found a group of people screaming in the back. 

She overheard some excited people say Clarke had been spotted somewhere in the back and followed them, eyes scanning desperately for a glimpse. 

Her heart stopped when the loudest of screams was heard because, stepping from a long, shiny vehicle and looking more beautiful than Lexa’s eyes deserved to see, was Clarke of the Sky People. 

She was waving to the crowd around her, using a pen to sign posters and papers or shirts as they all reached in worship. 

Lexa’s breath was stolen from her lungs. 

The woman who taught her love’s strength, the girl who kissed her and had the courage of thousands of the finest warriors in a heart so strong. 

There were a few large men around Clarke to protect her, but the sounds of people shouting were too loud for Lexa to shout herself. 

With a quick assessment, she knew she could disarm one and get close to Clarke. Her muscles were not as endured in this life, but her instincts from her memories were there and she ran forward. 

//

Clarke was rushed into the building of the concert hall where Michael was waiting for her with the VIP fans to greet her. 

She had signaled one last wave to her fans and let her ears acclimate to the quiet indoors. The concert itself would be another round of noise and today was a day she felt particularly mopey and sad and in no mood to sing. 

“Shit!” There was an exclamation behind her and arms were shoving her dutifully aside as VIP fans screamed and Michael cursed the craziness of some fans. 

Clarke had barely moved her guard’s arm out of her face until she heard the voice of her dreams. 

“Clarke!”

She was stunned and looked up at the clattering of a pipe. 

Before her was a kneeling, out of breath  _ Lexa _ . 

She moved but the guard shoved her back, and Clarke broke out of her stunned disbelief as the other guards approached Lexa. 

“Stop!” Clarke yelled. “Get off of me -- stop! Lexa!” 

To say Lexa looked relieved was an understatement, and Clarke was finally able to break away from her confused guards as she fell down to her knees and sobbed, holding Lexa -- alive, breathing, and beautiful as ever. 

“Lexa.” She hugged her tighter. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me,” Lexa promised her, holding her close. 

//

Lexa knew the people around them were probably confused, to see her disarm a guard with one of the poles holding the crowd back and then slip under another’s arm to reach Clarke, but at that moment all she cared about was the woman in her arms. 

They stayed in their embrace, and Lexa kept her eyes closed wondering how long Clarke had been looking for her. 

A cough caused Clarke to lean back from her, tears leaking all down her face. 

Lexa reached forward to wipe them gently away. Here she was not Heda, she was allowed to openly show her affection for one life above another. 

“Come on.” Clarke was on her feet, tugging Lexa up with her. “Come with me.” 

“Clarke!” A man said to her, gesturing to the people on the sideline, who had taken their phones out and filmed it. “Your fans! The concert! Who the hell is this?”

“Not now, Michael.” Clarke ignored him and tugged Lexa behind her. Lexa blindly followed, watching as Clarke ignored everyone who tried to greet her until she had Lexa alone in a room, closing and securing the door behind her. 

“Clarke,” Lexa started, feeling herself relax when they were alone. 

Clarke stepped forward still looking and as mystified as Lexa felt that they were together again. 

“Lexa.” Clarke touched her cheek, eyes spilling once again with tears. 

“I never got to tell you before, Clarke.” Lexa pressed her forehead to Clarke’s, whispering her only regret. “Ai hod yu in…”

When their lips touched, Lexa felt tears spill from her eyes. She let Clarke guide her back into the furniture, accepted her weight, and kissed her with all of her love, hoping to heal their shared pain. 

//

=

//

“So there’s this fascinating footage of Clarke Griffin backstage at her concert last week that was released. The Oscar-winning singer had a two-hour delay before she finally greeted her fans and said the event was canceled, reimbursing them all and apologizing. 

“Some fans got these clips of a tearful reunion with a woman that seems to be the cause of the cancellation. Fans are demanding an explanation, and no official statement has been released by Griffin or her management. 

“Here’s what facial recognition has found out: the woman in question is Alexandria Woods, called Lexa, in the clip. She was in the news herself recently for saving a boy and getting shot. We’ve reached out to former coworkers of hers who say due to her recovery, she is currently no longer working. She worked as an immigration lawyer, attended law school--”

Michael turned off the television, frowning at the new information. 

There was absolutely no proof Clarke knew this ‘Lexa’ at all and all of the news stations were eager to solve the mystery. 

He wanted to know, but for the last few weeks Clarke and that woman were holed up in her house, and he couldn’t even go there to demand answers because Clarke had changed all the codes on her house security -- essentially telling him and all of her staff to stay away and leave her alone. Even the housekeeper was told to stay away until further notice. 

/

Lexa could listen to Clarke’s unburdened giggle for the rest of her days. 

“So you didn’t know he meant credit card?”

“No, so I asked him ‘how is it possible I receive credit when I wish to exchange a purchase’ and he was so confused. Komfomi had to explain to me about the technology of these cards.” 

Clarke laughed freely into her shoulder and then kissed her. 

They had stayed in bed, emptying the contents of Clarke’s fridge and cupboards, talking and laughing and making love, sleeping in one another’s arms and repeating it. 

Lexa loved this, loved that she could lean forward and kiss Clarke without worrying about twelve clans and the threat of war. Loved that Clarke arched wantonly into her, both free to be like this. 

“Again?” Lexa teased, following the cue of Clarke’s body as she rolled onto her back and tugged Lexa over her by the neck. “You’re not yet satisfied?”

Clarke’s legs wrapped around her waist and Lexa nuzzled her neck. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied with having you,” Clarke confessed into her ear. “I’ve gone too long with only memories. I need you.” 

Lexa’s heart burst in her chest and she kissed Clarke softly before promising, “You have me.” 

/

It was with joy Lexa joined Clarke on her balcony, sipping the wine from her cellar. 

“It’s not as high up as your tower in Polis,” Clarke teased her. 

Lexa laughed. “So you can retain both memories? Our other life and this one?”

Clarke nodded, “I was around ten when I started to remember… my parents died then, maybe the trauma triggered it, we crashed our car in the bay. The crash reminded me of when I fell to earth.” 

/

“Konfomi explained this one to me, it’s a political debate… so fascinating,” Lexa declared, observing the television as Clarke observed her, playing with her hair. “I have been watching much of The Youtube to understand the governmental climate of this world… and there are great hair tips on there too...” 

“I should meet her, your Konfomi,” Clarke suggested, tucking her nose to Lexa’s jaw. “You’ve been with me all week here… she’s probably worried. And I need to get my team off my back and restock the fridge for the week.”

“Of course.” Lexa turned her head to smile at Clarke. They did not have people to answer to, but she did have a grandmother to care for. “The ‘fridge’ appliances are also very fascinating, designed to preserve food from immediate spoil… and there is much rich trade, the roads, and maps, the infrastructure, Clarke! And all the different kinds of motorized vehicles-- the aeroplanes!”

Clarke giggled, listening to Lexa analyze her appreciation for the intricacies and luxuries this world had to offer them. 

“Sorry if I am boring you, Clarke,” Lexa apologized, realizing with light embarrassment she had been carried away in her excitement. 

“I love it -- I love you.” Clarke moved more on top of her, kissing her lips and sighing into them. 

//

Clarke shifted in her spot at the dining table, where she watched Lexa dig into her mac and cheese with gusto, oblivious to the staredown Clarke was getting from her grandmother. 

“Lexa asked me to make her favourite for you.” 

Clarke tried her sweetest smile. “Y-yeah, um… it is so delicious.” 

“Konf-- Grandmother,” Lexa quickly corrected her tongue. “I will get the delicious Jell-O dessert from the fridge. Please speak with Clarke.” 

Clarke watched Lexa leave, grab their dishes and leave them alone. It would seem, in Lexa’s excitement for them to meet, she had requested her Konfomi make her favourites for Clarke: macaroni and cheese followed by Jell-O. Clarke was so enamoured with the Commander in this world, seeing her blissfully enjoy herself with no apologies. 

“So my only granddaughter loses her memory... yet she runs away into the night to go to your concert, somehow remembering you. And you know her. The news has been investigating her ever since.”

“She also remembered you,” Clarke pointed out. “She remembers the people she loves most, it seems. And I’m sorry about being a celebrity I… suppose I thought she would find me sooner if I was more famous.”

“How do you know each other? Apart from her travel to build homes and volunteer for hurricane relief, Lexa has never left the city or strayed from her studies. She’s never even been on a date, that I know of.”

Clarke tried her best to explain, a distant clutter in the kitchen reminding her that Lexa was very much real. 

“We met so long ago, we were so close -- we vowed to meet again. She lost her memory of me for some time, and now she remembers me. I sang those songs for her…”

“Oh.” Though it was not really an answer, Clarke was relieved to see the woman soften considerably to her. “I suppose I can’t even get mad at her for never telling me about you considering her memories are... But I always knew, Miss Griffin. I always knew her heart was longing for something -- someone. Whether her memories come back or not, I see how happy she is with you… that is all I’ve ever wanted for her. Now, let’s pretend to enjoy this dessert.”

/

“You’re not telling me something,” Michael was practically begging Clarke at this point to open up. “And now out of nowhere, you want to take a break, Clarke? Your career is at its peak!”

Clarke understood where he was coming from, she really did. She just did not care. 

She looked up from the kitchen table where she had invited him for coffee to where Lexa was standing by the door. 

Seeing her gaze leave him, he glanced over his shoulder and scoffed. “Seriously?”

In trigedasleng, Lexa simply reminded Clarke of her own war strategy. “We give information that we want people to know, so they do what we want them to do.” 

Clarke bit her lip. Whether it was Lexa letting the missile hit Ton DC or Lexa playing mind games with Nia’s attempt to usurp her, Clarke had learned a lot about how to share what information with who and when. 

“What did she just tell you, Clarke?”

“Michael, the best I can do is an interview. One interview, to answer all these questions. Do you remember what I told you when I said I wanted to be on the radio?”

“I,” Michael hesitated, “what?”

“I told you that I was singing to find someone, I wanted them to hear my voice. You told me you would get me on as many radios as possible. I found her.” 

Michael had forgotten that conversation and his anger paused. He looked back at Lexa once again, this time curious. 

/

“So that device, the ‘camera’ will be broadcasting us to how many homes?” 

“Well we will record and edit it,” the cameraman was blushing, not used to any interviewers coming in and being more excited about his job than the celebrity interviewer. 

“What does that mean?” Lexa asked him. “You will adjust the propaganda as you see fit?”

“Um…”

“Lexa!” 

Lexa glanced back to see Clarke waving her over. 

Clarke told her in trigedasleng, “Let him do his duty, come and meet this woman who will be interviewing us.” 

Lexa pouted, having hoped to gather more insight into the machinations of this ‘interview’ process. 

“What language was that?” Kelsey Quinn, the most well-known talk-show celebrity in the country, eyed Clarke curiously. 

Clarke grabs Lexa’s hand to hold as she joined them, telling Kelsey, “Our own made-up one.”

“Hello.” Lexa gave a commanding nod to Kelsey before her eyes followed the wires and watched the production team communicate soundcheck. “You have a very impressive team.” 

Kelsey flushed under the praise, unused to any subject of an interview complimenting her production, usually, they would flatter her outfit and want to know what questions she was going to ask to make them look good. 

“Oh, er, thank you, Lexa.”

“So,” Clarke cut off whatever Lexa was going to say in return, squeezing Lexa’s hand to calm her enthusiasm for the event. “Shall we?”

Kelsey led them to sit down, observing the way Clarke whispered something into Lexa’s ear right before they sat down. 

/

“So your memories just totally left?”

“I remember my grandmother and Clarke,” Lexa explained, keeping her eyes focused on Kelsey, chin lifted. Somehow this ‘interview’ felt like a meeting with her clan’s ambassadors, every question carrying more trickery than integrity. “The doctors have diagnosed me with retrograde amnesia.” 

“Of course, yes… forgive me it’s just so fascinating! And Clarke, you have infamously never commented on any relationships and have denied all rumoured romances, so I gotta ask... have you always been together?”

Lexa feels her heart lurch, upset at the reminder that she had been living in ignorance in this life as Clarke suffered alone, waiting for her. She feels Clarke squeeze her hand like she can read her thoughts and Lexa turns her palm around, letting their fingers intertwine. 

“Yeah, well, you could say we have a history,” Clarke said, smiling mysteriously

“And people are just dying to know -- how do you both know each other? Because I’ve seen the footage of the backstage concert. You took out some bodyguards to get to her, it looked like a reunion!” 

Lexa let the limb not holding Clarke’s hand rest on the sofa’s arm, fingers drumming on it like it was her throne in Polis (though so much more comfortable, she definitely appreciated the soft furniture of this world). 

“Yes, I have apologised to the guards,” Lexa answered, even though she had not. They should be ashamed of their incompetence anyways. 

“Lexa and I have known each other for a long time,” Clarke took over the interview. “We’ve been through a lot together, that is our own private matter. I lost touch with her, couldn't find her… when she lost her memories, she came looking for me and, well, that’s what the video is of. Sorry if that’s not the answer some people are looking for, but yes, I wrote and sang my songs for her.”

“And I respect your privacy,” Kelsey said, still sounding curious. “It must be quite the story though, because the songs you sing, Clarke, I mean, they really have a way of cutting deep.” 

Clarke laughed, her fingers squeezing Lexa’s. Lexa had never heard a laugh from her sound so fake. “The secret is to tap into emotion. I can say I’m hungry or I can say I’m  _ hungry _ . The first is just me stating a fact, but the second way I sound like I’m starving.”

_ Clever as always.  _ Lexa had always found this particular skill of Clarke’s to be very brilliant. She had a way with words, a way of communicating…

“I see your point!” Kelsey backtracked, knowing they were not going to share more than that. “So we have a surprise for you, Lexa.”

“A surprise?” Lexa was not a fan of surprises. In her experience, they were usually tragic. 

“Come on out, Jordan!” 

A young boy with two adults walked out towards them on the taping set and Lexa wondered who they were. People from her old life? Friends? 

“This is Jordan Greene, and his parents Monty and Harper Greene.” 

_ Monty and Harper.  _ Lexa felt Clarke squeeze her hands tightly. 

The young boy shyly hugged his mother’s legs and Lexa leaned forward, watching the family take a seat across from them. 

“Jordan is the boy whose life you saved,” Kelsey explained. 

“I was there too,” the father, Monty, reaches out his hand. “We just want to say thank you.”

“Thank you,” Harper says, eyes watery with gratitude as she holds her son. 

“Thank you,” the boy, Jordan, says before leaning forward and asking her, “Are you okay?”

Lexa slowly smiles at him. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah,” he giggles, and her smile grows bigger. 

/

After the session is done, Lexa is explaining to Jordan all the things she learned about the production. They seemed to have connected, quietly whispering and giggling like conspirators. 

Clarke thinks of the times she saw Lexa teaching the nightbloods. There’s a different level of softness she shows around children, patience and the belief that whatever she teaches them should have an impact on shaping them. 

“I feel like I know you guys,” Clarke tells Monty and Harper, her closest friends in another life. They don’t remember, of course. They blush in her celebrity presence and she follows them back on Instagram, meaning it when she says she wants to stay in touch. 

When the family leaves, Clarke ignores Kelsey’s curious gaze and throws her arms over Lexa’s shoulders before speaking to her in Trig. 

“Oh my god, Lexa. Monty and Harper.” 

“Your friends.” Lexa’s eyes are drawn to the way the stage lights are turned off. 

Clarke giggles, leaning in to kiss her cheek sweetly before whispering, “They seem happy. We all deserve to be happy.” 

“I love you, Clarke,” Lexa whispers back to her, squeezing her hips once before leaning back. “The probability of me getting shot saving your friend Monty’s son is--”

“You aren’t supposed to talk about getting shot, remember?” Clarke scolds her before breaking off their embrace to tug Lexa along to the eyes that keep watching them. 

“It was great having you both on the show,” Kelsey says, brows furrowed. 

“Thank you,” Clarke said. “It was cool to meet the Greene family. They’re sweethearts.” 

“R-right,” Kelsey turns her growing curious eyes to Lexa next. “So… off the record, you really don’t remember anything?”

Clarke looks about ready to punch her, but Lexa subtly tugs her hand and tries to quell the journalists' dying curiosity. 

“I can’t explain what it’s like to wake up and not know where you are. The things I remember and don’t, are too convoluted to explain. Have a good day, Kelsey of the impressive studio.” 

Clarke tried not to laugh at Kelsey's confused face as they left. 

//

“There are so many more languages.” Lexa was in awe, spinning the globe in Clarke’s living room with wonder. “So many countries… so much recorded in history... ” 

Clarke cuts them some sandwiches giving her best effort since Lexa’s grandmother was coming over for the afternoon lunch and tea. 

“Your grandmother is going to be here soon, Lexa.” 

“There are so many  _ people _ thriving on this planet, Clarke! It’s amazing!” 

Proud of the outcome of her attempt at making sandwiches, Clarke dried her hands off and walked over to where Lexa was perusing her iPad. 

In the weeks that have followed their reunion, not including the first two when they were almost exclusively in Clarke’s bedroom, Lexa reads and watches television, and works out every morning following old nightblood training exercises. 

Her dive into history was adorably enthusiastic, and Clarke was impressed with how much she read in a day when she wasn't annoyed at not being the object of Lexa’s attention. 

“You know, we should travel. Where do you want to go?”

“Really?” Lexa’s eyes lit up with excitement. “In the aeroplanes? In the sky?”

Clarke can’t hold it in anymore, sitting on her sofa she reasons Lexa’s grandmother isn’t due to arrive for fifteen minutes so she cups her face and kisses her with intent. 

“Clarke,” Lexa pants in between kisses. “You--”

For the next few minutes, she allows Clarke to take the iPad and place it aside, indulging in kisses both sweet and full of longing. A doorbell rings and they break apart, and Lexa feels great reluctance to break away from Clarke’s lips, adoring the flush of her cheeks by gently caressing it with her thumb. 

Clarke sighs, pressing her forehead to Lexa’s and kissing her sweetly once more. 

“I guess your grandma is here.” 

“Yeah,” Lexa whispers, smiling softly at Clarke. 

/

“Lexa, I will be fine.”

Lexa wanted nothing more than to take a plane and escape and explore with Clarke. In her ‘carry-on’ baggage she had a huge book of all the different tree types and information on the forests in South America, their first stop. 

“Clarke assured me we can stay in touch.” 

“Go.”

Lexa tugged the woman close, whispering, “Ok.” 

Her grandmother hugged her tightly back. “You always hug me like it could be the last time. Don’t worry, I have years of life left in me yet, Lexa. Send me photos.”

Lexa turns confused eyes to Clarke. 

Clarke smiles, reaching for her own Konfomi hug and getting a tight squeeze in return. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll help her send them,” Clarke giggled. 

“Take care of her, Clarke. Seems like she’s yours now.” 

Clarke nods, both of them turning to tease Lexa only to find she’s not near them, but a few paces away. Watching the luggage move on the automatic belt with fascination. 

“That she is,” Clarke said fondly. 

Paparazzi that had caught on to Clarke’s arrival at the airport was taking photos, but all Clarke could think about was how willing she was to do it all over again. 

The suffering, the pain, the loss… she would go through it all again just to be here with Lexa. 

//

_ fin?  _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> seriously writing commander Lexa and picturing what her thoughts would be in 'our' world was so much fun lmao   
> I would love to see any suggestions or comments on what you think Lexa would be into


End file.
